30 Days of Domesticity
by luckypixi
Summary: 30 semi-related chapters following the domestic bliss of Arthur and Eames. From moving in together, shopping and paying the bills, to the sound of wedding bells... please R&R!


**Something fluffy for a change… hope you enjoy, please leave a comment! : )**

'If I had known you had this much stuff I would never have invited you.'

Eames put down the box and stood with his hands on his hips. He surveyed his cluttered kitchen, it's dark marble and chrome surfaces obscured by boxes and bags. 'I have noticed that I'm the one doing all the to-ing and fro-ing, you know. What exactly have you done for the last half an hour?'

Arthur looked up at him, glasses almost falling off his nose. He had been sat on a high stool at the breakfast bar, leafing through another box, this one filled with his paperback novels, which was teetering on the edge of the circular table.

They had started to shift all of Arthur's belongings into Eames' upmarket apartment this morning; it was now nearly six in the evening. Granted, they did get a little distracted come lunchtime, when they had brought in the boxes for the bedroom. They were both exhausted and Arthur knew Eames got crabby when he got tired.

'One more to go.' He assured the Forger, leaning forwards to catch his mouth. Eames grunted and deepened the kiss. He brought his hand up to cup his Point Man's face, holding him there, the other hand resting on his thigh.

'You better be worth it.' He murmured, lips curling in a smile, grey eyes sparkling.

'Every sweaty step up those stairs.' Arthur nodded, pushing Eames back and standing up. He pushed his glasses up again and Eames chuckled; he knew Arthur hated wearing the glasses, but his eyes needed the occasional break from the contact lenses he usually wore.

Arthur made for the corridor which led to the front door. 'Why don't you be a dear and put the kettle on!' He called, looking over his shoulder. 'Rest those old legs.'

'Old legs?' Eames called back, outraged. 'I'll have you know, there's plenty of life left in these limbs yet.'

'Uh huh' Arthur smiled as he disappeared, jogging the two flights of steps to his car, parked in front of the apartment.

Eames scoffed and grinned, busying himself with making tea. He could never trust Arthur to do it properly.

As he waited for the kettle to boil he stood with his back against the unit and crossed his legs. He looked around his apartment again. It was open planned and airy, with all the living room visible from the kitchen. After years of a solitary life, just him, it felt strange, foreign to him to have someone else moving in. But it was nice to see the mix of his and Arthur's things. Arthur's jacket laid carefully on the back of his sofa; a couple of Arthur's china coffee mugs hung on his cup tree. He could smell Arthur's Cologne fill the rooms of his home. All the cardboard boxes containing his partners belongings peppering his floor. It was all very reassuring.

'That's dangerous, you know.'

Eames jumped as Arthur walked back in and deposited the final box, which seemed to be filled with shoes, on the floor.

'What's that, love?' He asked, putting tea bags in two cups and pouring boiling water over the top.

'Thinking. I could practically see the cogs whirring through your forehead.'

Eames grinned as he stirred two sugars into Arthur's cup. He shrugged and looked back at his partner, who smiled at him.

'What were you thinking about?' Arthur asked as Eames splashed in some milk, removed the teabag and handed the cup to him.

Eames took a sip of his own tea. He liked his tea builder's strength. 'Nothing.' He gestured to the room as a whole. 'This. Us.' He looked sheepishly at Arthur, who frowned, put down his cup and walked forwards, putting his hands on Eames' hips.

'Us?' He leaned forwards to catch Eames' eye. 'We're good, right?' Arthur always looks endearingly young when he's uncertain; it's not a look Eames sees often.

Eames looked up and tried to hide his grin. 'No.' He deadpanned. He softened his expression and encircled Arthur's waist to pull him close.

'We're bloody perfect.'


End file.
